


Can't Help Falling in Love

by Plaided_Ani



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 06:01:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15308994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plaided_Ani/pseuds/Plaided_Ani
Summary: Request: Could I request a Dean one-shot, where he finally wants to propose to R, but is starting to doubt himself and Sam has to reassure him and encourage him to finally do that step. Set in somewhere between season 12 and 13. R is Dean's best friend.





	Can't Help Falling in Love

**Author's Note:**

> This was a request from a reader on tumblr. 
> 
> Inspired by Pentatonix’s arrangement of Can’t Help Falling in Love.

When he first met you, you were sitting on a park bench reading a book about Sumerian history and cross referencing with a small text on cuneiform, your nose wrinkled in thought and the tip of your tongue set between your teeth. You were the local expert on mythological lore according to the university and often took your lunches in the park when the weather was right and if Dean was lucky, he’d find you there. And he was.

That was several years ago and you had gotten to know the Winchesters very well. You knew what they did and the evils that they faced, luckily you weren’t caught up in the crossfire. Much. They called you often when Sam was too busy to look up something himself or Dean was too tired and annoyed to listen to Sam drone on about this or that. You always got straight to the point, told them what they needed to know and that was that.

You had your own pocket in Kansas, safe and sound from the big and the bad and the boys would stop in from time to time. They often brought you dinner when you were researching for your job and not for a case which meant you would forget about eating and drinking and sleeping to get your work down. Dean more often than not made you put down the pen or the tablet and ‘just hang out like normal people’. “You’re not normal people,” you always told him.

“I am when I’m with you,” he always replied back.

He’d often texted you when he got downtime. He hated emojis and gifs, but you’d send them to him anyway and he’d find one to send back, always with a short, grumpy text to go with it. You’d Facetime him when you stayed late nights at the office when he was sitting up in his bed at the bunker, relaxed and at peace, if only for the moment. You wouldn’t talk much, but he was happy to watch you work in silence.

They invited you to the bunker when things weren’t crazy and you always accepted. Their books were fascinating and they would let you load up boxes of texts that you’d call ‘light reading’ and that always got a chuckle out of Dean. But they’d make you stay for dinner and movie and eventually you got your own room set up for nights when you were too drunk to drive or it was too late to bother.

He wasn’t sure when it happened, but Dean could feel the change in himself when he was with you. Your smile made his heart flutter, your laughter made his belly coil up like a spring, and the mere thought of you had his skin flushed all over. “That’s love,” Sam told him over grocery store meatloaf. “You’re in love.”

And he was, head of heels and weak in the knees. But in Dean’s life, he couldn’t afford to be in love. He couldn’t have the slow burn of a happy-go-lucky relationship, no courtship or honeymoon phase. He shouldn’t want you like he does. No, he shouldn’t need you like he does, but he can’t help him. In his fucked up world of demons and bloodshed and death, you were the one shining beacon in his life that lit his way home.

“I’m going to ask her to marry me,” he decided one day over bacon and coffee. Sam was still sleep drunk and hummed in agreement. Later, his younger brother would question his sanity, tell him that you two weren’t even dating, why jump straight to marriage? But Dean wasn’t listening, he was Googling the closet jewelry shop.

He bought the best ring credit card fraud could buy and started to go over all the reasons why you would say yes. They’ve known you for at least six years and not once had you dated a single person to Dean’s knowledge. Your touches always lingered with him, your smiles always softer, more private. You had to have a thing for him, right?

But there were more reasons to say no. Being part of the Winchester clan meant that your life would be on the line and with the storm that was brewing, he wasn’t sure he could keep you safe along with Sam and their new charge Jack. And, like Sam said, you weren’t even dating, never kissed, never even held hands, why would you jump straight to the ball and chain?

“I’m not gonna do it,” Dean decided once he got back to the bunker with the ring in its box tucked in his pants and his hands full of food and beer. “You’re right, it’s a stupid idea.”

Sam sighed heavily and helped his brother divvy up the evening meal. “No, what I said was stupid. It’s obvious you two are crazy about each other, I choke on the sexual tension whenever I’m in the room with you.” Dean scowled at that, but Sam ignored it. “Y/N is a good egg. She’s stuck with us this long, maybe she’ll stick around longer with a ring on her finger.”

“Don’t call my future wife an egg,” Dean huffed.

“She’s a metaphorical egg,” Sam reassured. “The best kind, brown and organic from free range chickens.”

Dean held up a hand, “Stop. Just stop.”

But he called you three days later and asked if you were free for dinner. You were knee deep in research, but when weren’t you? If he allowed you access to the library when you finished eating, you’d agree and he had no objections with the idea.

You showed up in your best flowy thin cotton tee and yoga pants, hair up in a messy bun to find Dean waiting at the bottom of the stairs with a nervous smile on his face but in his best dress shirt and slacks and you figured he played a fed earlier. When you asked him what’s wrong, he said nothing and ushered you through the bunker to the kitchen. You casually mention Sam and Jack, but he told you they were off to see a movie and you shrugged sat across from him, noting the flowers and the candle and actual dinner plates. “Is this a date?”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, opening a bottle of wine, or at least trying to.

“You should’ve told me,” you frowned, looking down at your casual attire, “I look like a bum.”

“I think you look beautiful,” he said with a fond smile, working the screw in the cork with some difficulty. When your cheeks flushed and your shoulders drooped, he set the wine aside and reached out for your hand. You took his in yours and he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss on your knuckles. “Beer okay?”

“Sounds great,” you answered, flustered beyond belief.

Dinner carried on like it normally did, the two of you talking about work and the latest show you binge watched. Nothing changed between you other than your feet entwining underneath the table, your hands reaching out for one another. At some point he joined you on your side and your limbs were all tangled, your lips finding solace in his and his tie became a little looser.

“Marry me,” he whispered against your lips when you parted for the hundredth time that night.

“Okay,” you replied, kiss drunk and in love. “When?”

He fished out a box and popped it open, “Sometime before I die?”

“We can leave now and be in Vegas by the morning,” you laughed, taking the ring out to slide on your finger. It was a size too big, but that could always be fixed.

“I’ll pack, you book the hotel?”

You smiled and pulled out your phone. You were going to give Dean a happy-ever-after one of these days and this is where it would start.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr: @plaided-ani


End file.
